


the moon is right

by dizzy



Series: byebye 20gayteen daily fic advent [21]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 11:45:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17099990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: prompt:Dan goes back home and bumps into someone he used to know, including an awkward conversation about what his life is right now.





	the moon is right

Train station coffee stands are lonely places on Christmas Eve, Dan thinks as he sips a chai latte and watches strangers pass back and forth in front of him. 

He told his mum a dozen times he could just get a ride to the house. It's not her fault his train was late, she shouldn't have to be punished by leaving halfway through dinner to come fetch him. 

(Or maybe it's just that he doesn't like the reverted childhood feeling that being picked up from this station sends him sliding back into. Maybe he wants to resist that kind of mental claustrophobia for a while longer.)

But she'd insisted and so now he's stood in the cold waiting while she texts that she's five minutes away. 

He's contemplating walking back inside just to get out of the wind when he hears a voice call out, "Dan Howell?"

His shoulders tense. He turns, bracing himself - 

"Lou?" He says. He hasn't seen her in years, didn't even respond to her wedding invitation. Somehow she looks even tinier than she used to, all bundled up. 

"My god, it is you!" She comes running at him before he can even react, throwing her arms around him. 

He finds himself laughing, holding his coffee up out so his drink doesn't splash and hugging her back with one arm around her shoulders. "Hey, Lou." 

"You've filled out, haven't you? You were still a twig last time I saw you!" She pulls away, grinning up at him. She puts a hand on his arm like she can feel anything beneath the layers of coat. 

"Didn't your mum ever teach you not to comment on a girl's weight?" Dan says. 

"You know very well my mum tried to teach me a lot of things and I didn't take to a single one of them." 

She's not wrong; Dan remembers her a decade ago, chunky streaks in her hair and piercing anything she could. He remembers the tattoo she'd shown up with one day and how he'd been fascinated with it. 

"Are you waiting on someone?" She asks. 

"Oh, it's - my mum. She's picking me up." 

"Oi, fancy boy like yourself doesn't have a personal driver?" She lifts an eyebrow, mocking fondly. 

He feels that surge of something strange and almost embarrassing, like he always does. They're still friends on facebook, but he knows by virtue of how public his job is that all his friends probably know his life better than he knows theirs. 

When's the last time he even saw her? Years ago, before the first tour even, that time they met up for coffee? He remembers how dizzying it had been to listen to her talk a mile a minute about everyone they grew up with. 

He remembers how she'd gently pried for information, and how he'd clammed up against the onslaught of questions. She's always been one for gossip. 

He'd given her absolutely nothing that day. He'd felt overwhelmed at even the idea that he might let something slip. His whole life felt like it took place between a series of dead-bolted doors. 

He's demolished quite a few of those right by now. 

"Not quite," he says. "Maybe we'll get there eventually."

There it is. That word he always found so scary. 

He's not the least bit surprised when she takes the bait he not-so-subtly dropped. 

"How is that going, then? The 'we' of it all?" She shifts on her feet a bit, most likely trying to keep warm but Dan's amused at how it looks like impatience for the information. 

"It's good," he says. "We're looking at houses. Well, we will be. I just left his family on Isle of Man, and he's staying around there for another week." 

Her face lights up. She'll probably group text people as soon as they walk away. The idea just makes him want to laugh right now. Maybe he doesn't properly give a fuck. 

Maybe it's also nice that she just seems happy for him. "That's so fantastic," she says. 

Then she looks over her shoulder, and raises a hand up to wave at someone. Dan follows the gesture and sees a man walking toward them. "That your husband?" He asks. 

"Yeah! You can meet him-" 

Dan spots a familiar car pull up just in the nick of time. He's done shockingly well with this nightmare scenario come to life, running into someone he knows, but he's not keen on pushing that luck by adding a complete stranger to the equation. 

"Actually, that's my mum now, and I think they're holding off dinner for me. But it was nice seeing you," he says. 

Her face falls. "Oh. Well, ring me, yeah? We're doing a big school get together for the people who are in town, you can drop in!" 

He absolutely won't do that. He doesn't even ask for her number, and he knows it hasn't been in his contacts in years. But he still nods politely and says, "Sure." 

He sees her waving to his mum as he walks toward the car, can even hear the sound of her voice carrying as she talks to her husband. He can't make out what she's saying, and that's probably for the best. 

The car is warm as he gets into it. The seat is pulled up far too much for the length of his legs and it smells like his mum's perfume. 

"Friend or fan?" She asks. "Couldn't get a good view there." 

"You need your glasses on, mum," Dan says. "It was someone I went to school with." 

"Poor thing," she tuts. She's definitely teasing him. 

"Actually," Dan says, leaning back against the seat and taking another drink of his coffee. "It wasn't that bad. How are things at the house?" 

"A riot," she says. "Your grandma snuck in a whole turkey and now Adrian's not talking to her." 

"Nana the rebel. You knew she'd try." 

"Oh, I certainly did. Thought maybe she'd just go for a pudding with milk in it and try to sneak it in. But no, we're in for a proper show down tonight." 

"I like entertainment with my food," Dan says. He picks up his phone while he chats with her, typing out a text to Phil. 

_ran into someone from school at the train station and didn't wanna die??_

Phil responds back almost immediately. It warms Dan through and through to know that even at a crowded family dinner Phil's got his phone right there, waiting to hear from Dan. 

_character development!!_ Phil says, and then also sends a picture of his plate. 

_evil man_ , Dan says. _you know i've got nothing but nut roast to look forward to_

This time there's a slightly longer delay before Phil says: _i'd like to roast ur nuts_ followed by _i typed half of that then my auntie was standing over my shoulder kill plz_

 _nope suffer_

"What are you smiling at, then?" His mum asks, glancing over. 

Dan shrugs and sits back against the seat. "Nothing. Just Phil being stupid." 

"As husbands often do." 

"Mum!" Dan groans. "We're not married." 

"Oh, might as well be. What does the official part even matter? Never bothered me much." 

"Yeah," Dan grumbles. "I know." 

"I'm just saying-" 

"I know exactly what you're saying. Now hush and stop mum'ing me." Dan doesn't actually mind it, and he thinks she knows that. "Are we going to Nana's tomorrow to eat?" 

"We certainly are," she says. "Adrian's already told me he'll be going out for a run instead." 

"Good. I'm too weak to resist the puddings." 

She reaches over and pats his legs. "Aren't we all." 

"Can I drive?" He asks, suddenly. 

"Mmm." She gives him a considering look. "How long's it been?" 

"I haven't forgotten," he says. "Promise." 

"Maybe. We'll see." She looks at him again. "Thinking of getting a car?" 

He shrugs. "Depends on how far out we move to. Probably not. We like the city. But... you never know." 

"Reading's lovely..." She grins because she knows there's not a chance in fucking hell he's moving to Reading. 

"I think we're set on staying in London, but thanks," he respond dryly. 

He looks down at his phone but there's nothing else from Phil and they're nearing the house, so he slides it into his coat pocket. 

*

He doesn't take it out again for almost an hour. It's a record time for Dan and his phone to be parted, but he has to endure so many grandma hugs and consume two plates of food that aren't actually complain-worthy at all, even if half the items are of unidentifiable origin. 

The first thing he sees are two texts from Phil. He reads them and smiles, but another notification catches his eye - a tag on facebook. 

He groans, because of course she would. It's just a post about how she's back in town and a list of places she'll be and when, encouraging anyone she's friends with to get in touch with her for lunch or coffee. 

The very last line reads _Oh, guess who I ran into at the train station!! Daniel Howell lives!_ with his name right there tagged, plain as day. 

It's a recent post. It has a few likes but no comments yet, and he's glad. He knows he'll wake the next morning with a ball of dread in his stomach, ready to escape the remarks from people he feels neutral to the point of avoidance for at this phase in his life. 

He screenshots it and sends it to Phil. 

Phil responds back with a frowning emoji and a request for Dan to call him once he's going to bed. 

*

His childhood bedroom looks the same but it smells like the non-chemical cleaner his mum uses. The sheets feel fresh and his body feels tired, so he sinks his head back into the pillow and closes his eyes to blot out the intrusive nostalgia feelings. 

Phil answers on the third ring. "Was it awful?" He asks. "Be honest." 

"You know I'm always honest. Even when you tell me not to be. By the way, remember how your mum agreed with me on the parka?" 

"I'm disowning you both. The parka is my family now." Phil's voice sounds soft and tired too, gritty with how much talking he's been doing all day long - probably shouting as well. The Lesters take board game nights seriously and it takes effort to cut above the noise. 

Dan likes how it sounds. It makes him think about long days and longer nights. "It wasn't that bad." 

"Are you going to meet up with anyone else?" 

"Fuck no," Dan says. "Nopety doo da. No thank you. Pass on that one." 

"Still going home day after tomorrow?" 

"Counting the hours," Dan says. "I can't even sleep naked here. Too much trauma." 

Phil sighs wistfully. "Don't mention being naked." 

"Keep it in your pants, it's only been a day." 

"Maybe I just like naked cuddling," Phil says. "It's not always about sex." 

"Naked cuddling is usually about sex." Dan's just saying nonsense words, but he likes saying them to Phil. "And yes it still counts if it's after." 

"Disagree," Phil says. "It's not sex anymore once you're done. It's just naked cuddling. They are separate and individual actions." 

"Fine, I challenge you to naked cuddle me on the sofa next week and it not end in sex." 

"Challenge accepted," Phil says. "Should we start a new scoreboard? Just for ourselves? We've got that whole table insert..." 

"Fuck off." Dan laughs. "I hate you." 

"Love you too," Phil says. Dan can hear the smile in his voice. "Hey. It's almost Christmas." 

Dan looks out his window, like he'll see anything different there. He doesn't - it's just the same old view it's always been, no magical snowfall moment or Christmas scenery. 

But just like earlier, he finds that right now it doesn't feel... that bad. Maybe not his ideal - him and Phil in a London home, no Christmas days spent apart. But his belly is full of nice food and his parents are going to like their gifts and somehow life feels more bearable right now. Maybe it's the promise of new adventures on their horizon or just some kind of mental stability he knows he can't trust but should enjoy while he has it. He listens to the sound of Phil's sleepy breathing in and out. 

Maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe all that counts is that right now he feels good. "Happy Christmas, Phil."


End file.
